Still Bonded
by HuffynDK
Summary: Peter and Neal after the last scene. Warning: a couple gruesome images.


Neal slowly came back to his senses and dropped the gun like it was red-hot. He just stared at it and his hand that was shaking. He heard buzzing like bees. He just began to shake, every muscle. Every fiber of his body was shaking. He ran. He couldn't face Peter. He couldn't face anyone. He heard Peter swear. Neal wasn't trying to run; well he was but not away. He dropped to his knees and just began retching. He didn't even know who he was anymore. He wasn't a killer. He truly was a lover not a fighter. He didn't like guns. He was scared of them. He started puking all over again. He was terrified that he could have messed up and shot Peter. He started crying. He was really some hard bitten assassin. He didn't want to be one, deep down. He wished he could turn back time or that it would all be some bad, horrible dream and he would wake up safe and in his bed. He knew it wasn't going to happen though. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked. He was though an assassin. Anyone he got close to died. His first set of parents who he vaguely remembered. He remembered his mom's hair had shown like purple in the son. His father wore suits and smelled of whiskey and cigars.

The only clear memory he had was seeing them dead. They were lying on the floor, covered in blood. He remembered trying hard to get his mommy to wake up. He didn't know death at the time. He just knew mommy wasn't waking up and neither was Daddy. He hadn't tried to wake his father up. His father was mean when Neal woke him. Neal's arm was still in a tiny cast from his Daddy kicking him into a wall for playing with his little train to loud. He'd run across the hall to the neighbor lady with the cats who was always kind and gave him cookies and milk. El made him cookies and milk and she smelled a lot better.

The laughing man had been killed with a gun. Neal still didn't know his name. He'd always been kind and jolly. He taught Neal how to survive, to pick pockets and run games he called them. He always hugged him and praised him. He bought him nice clothes and when Neal was with him he always was fed well and no one hurt him. One day the laughing man didn't laugh. He came home while Neal was doing his homework. He told him that he'd played a game with the wrong people and it went bad. He told Neal not to be frightened and to run up and hide in his room in the attic. He was to stay there until he told Neal to come down. Neal did as he was told. He remembered being twelve and hiding in the cold and the dark. He remembered hearing shouting and gun shots. He remembered shivering and hearing everything being destroyed downstairs. He heard another shot, then the front door close. He'd stayed up there until finally his bladder hurt and he needed to go to the bathroom. He'd snuck down. It was cold and dark. It looked like a war zone and Neal was terrified. He went to the bathroom. He heard a noise and snuck into the living room. There was Mr. Moz, the laughing man's partner. He was on the ground next to what was left of the laughing man. Neal would wake up terrified still at how he no longer had a head.

Mr. Moz had taken Neal with him. They'd left Detroit real early in the morning. Neal had slept in the car. He'd woken up to the sun being warm in the sky and a sign for New York City. Neal was in awe. He'd heard about New York City. Mr. Moz sighed at Neal's jabbering and told him that they were there because it was the best place that he knew where people could hide in plain sight. Moz had taught him everything. He had become like his father. Now Moz was dead and it was his entire fault. Kate was dead too, all because he knew them. He didn't see still why everyone wanted this stupid music box. It was pretty but it was broke. The laughing man had given it to Neal. He told Neal it was his. Now everyone had assumed he'd stolen it and Neal had let them think it. Only Moz knew who had really stolen it, if anyone had. Neal doubted the laughing man had stolen it. He had told him stories in a funny voice about some land name Russia whenever he had gotten drunk and wasn't laughing any more.

He only had Peter and El left but if he stayed he would get them killed to. He wondered partly if he shouldn't just run off somewhere where there were no people where he couldn't make any more people die. He could also just go back to prison. He could fade away there. He jumped as he felt a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Don't you ever EVER scare the hell out of me like that again. You will NEVER just run from me like that."

"Arrest me." Neal choked out.

"The thought has occurred to me but no, I don't want to arrest you. In case you've forgotten, I've been trying to keep you alive and out of prison."

"Not worth it. I kill people."

"Those are the two stupidest things I have ever heard you say in one breath, and I've heard you say a lot. Neal, you are no killer. Killers don't drop the weapon and run off to puke. You are the most non-violent person I know."

"No! I kill people! I don't want to kill you to. Arrest me, or shoot me, or just let me disappear. I don't want you and Elizabeth to be my next victims."

"Not going to happen. Ok, I will humor you. Who all have you killed?"

"Kate."

"You didn't kill Kate, I was there, remember? It's pretty obvious you didn't kill her and that you were meant to meet the same fate."

"If Kate didn't know me, she wouldn't have been killed. I killed her."

He heard Peter snort and sit down next to him. He felt a handkerchief pressed into his hand. "Wipe your face off. Now, don't you think this might have been a helpful discussion to have a whole lot earlier?" He heard Peter sigh. "Neal, how do you know it isn't something that Kate did while you were in prison?"

"No. Kate is the good one. I was the bad one."

"Switch that one around and it would be probably a lot closer to the truth. Neal, think for a moment. Look inside your brain. What do you think that Kate was doing while you were in prison?"

"She was..she was…I…I don't know."

"You do know, you just don't want to admit it. Did you know Kate was on my radar before I even knew who you were? People had a habit of dropping dead around her. She actually led me to you. You intrigued me because you weren't anything like the ones that Kate usually had associated with before. No one died. Most of your victims remembered this sweet, charming young man with the bright blue eyes." Peter took a deep breath. "Neal, Keller wasn't lying. I dug into things. She was with Keller while you were in prison. She only lasted six months before hooking up. I found the Interpol files. They were having quite the run in Europe, doing things I know you would never approve of."

"I killed Moz."

"First, Moz isn't dead. I just texted the hospital. We'll go there in a bit and you can see for yourself. Second, again Moz is no angel. Moz probably has been into a lot of things even YOU don't know. He's in too deep but he doesn't want you to end up like him. Third, YOU didn't shoot Moz. Fourth, well Moz is like a cockroach, they don't kill easy. Somehow I seriously suspect Moz is going to outlive us all. He's going to be the crazy old toothless man on the porch of the rest home reading the obituaries and cackling that he outlived another one. I have no intention of dying any time soon. I can't imagine who would be there to bail your ass out of trouble if I do. You are pretty much a full time job in and of yourself. I actually like it and am very attached to it, even when you do happen to make me mad as hell."

"Sorry."

"I know. I'm not really surprised you figured out how to pick the anklet. I should have remembered that for you, just telling you something was unpickable would be too much of a challenge for you to resist. You are so still like a child, accepting dares. You also have the impulse control of a child. I think I am going to need to apply a deterrent."

"You don't like me anymore."

"What? Ok, Neal, where in that brain of yours did you come up with that. I am royally pissed off at you. I don't like the insane things you just did and I'm not happy at all you decided to leave out that you could take it off. You hurt me when you did that. You know why though?"

"No."

"I can tell that wasn't a smart answer and that you honestly mean that. Neal, why do you think I want you to wear a tracker?"

Neal turned and looked quizzically at Peter. "So you can know what I'm doing at all times."

"Well yes but there is a reason that I want to know where you are. I know you're not going to run on me. Neal, you're helping the FBI and it is putting a target on your back, not to mention irrespective of that, I have managed to arrest a hell of a lot of people who unlike you were much more violently indisposed to the whole event. I've had several that have openly cursed me out in court after sentencing and swore revenge. Most do, I can only think of one that turned around and looked at me like a deer in the headlights expecting me to tell him what to do next. You're special to me and that is more then a little obvious. There are many of them that would happily use you to get back at me. The anklet lets me sleep at night because I know where the two most important people to me are. I can wake up from a nightmare and call up and find out you are safe at home. If something were to happen, I could find out where you were last and know where to start looking. If you take it off, you could be hurt or killed and I might never know. Got it?"

"I mean that much to you?"

"Yes, even when I want to seriously tan your hide."

"I didn't know. I wasn't thinking." Neal decided to finish it. "I felt you didn't like or need me now that you had Diana back. I thought I was a fill in and you were going to send me back. I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore. You never spent any spare time with me, you were always with Diana. You'd even take calls and make sure I didn't hear anything. I thought I was too big a nuisance."

"Was part of this your way of getting my attention?"

"Well, yeah. At least when I messed up you had time for me. Otherwise you just didn't seem to want me around."

"I got obsessed myself. You know, there are other ways to get my attention then messing up and giving me heart failure and gray hair."

"I know but we're straight and I'm not a transvestite. I don't think my legs would look as good as Els."

"Ah, good. You show up in a tight sweater and a skirt and I would really think you flipped. I would probably haul your butt down for a psych eval on the spot. Sometimes I think they would have a heyday in that brain of yours. No, Neal, I wasn't thinking sex. Maybe shutting the door to the office and telling me you need my time. I'm not a mind reader."

"I did. I invited you out to supper. You told me you were doing a stupid stakeout and then I found out you were with Diana that night."

"You may need to try more than once. I do tend to get a little work obsessed if you were to ask El."

"You and El aren't getting a divorce, are you?"

"Divorce? Oh lord. Come on. First, we are going to check on Moz so you can see for yourself you are not a killer. Second, we are going to headquarters and find you something you WON'T pick. They have some I've heard that give the wearer a nice little electrical shock if they try to pick it. It's perfect for the con with no impulse control and an aversion to pain. Yes, we still want you in the FBI but you are going to be under a LOT of supervision for a while. Diana is personally looking forward to it. After that, we are going back to my house. We are going to have a discussion and then we are going to have us a nice LONG talk."

"Any chance we could skip the discussion? I mean, I've puked. Isn't that enough pain?"

"No."

"I ruined my suit. The dry cleaning bill alone is going to cost more than one of yours. I think that's a pretty strong deterrent."

"Your suits look silly while mine are classic and practical. Let me think, the answer is till no."

"Can we negotiate the terms of the discussion?"

"Terms are non-negotiable at this time. This is one of the times where this isn't an equal partnership, its closer to a benevolent dictatorship."

"Who decides the benevolence?"

"The dictator, of course. Now, quit quibbling or my benevolence meter will begin to drop proportionally."

"All hail the"

"WATCH IT! Darth Vader is one of my role models. All I know about management and handling consultants who get lippy, I learned from him."

"Yes, Sir. Right now, I wished you'd learned it from Andy Taylor. I doubt Opie ever had to carry an inflatable hemorrhoid ring to sit on for a week."


End file.
